Chasing the Dragon
by Grav
Summary: Helen was going to kill them


**AN**: This is why you shouldn't write fic at 2 in the morning after recovering from a migraine, my friends. This is exactly why.

Written for round 2 of the sanctuary_kink meme, "James/John, chasing the dragon".

**Spoilers**: Nothing, really.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, not mine at all.

**Rating**: Um...PG?

**Characters/Pairing**: James Watson, John Druitt, Helen Magnus. Possibly one of those commas should be a slash.

**Summary**: Helen was going to _kill_ them.

* * *

**Chasing the Dragon**

"Helen is going to _kill_ us," John said, leaning up against an all too insufficiently supportive Scottish pine and trying to catch his breath.

James glared at him in the darkness, bent over with his hands on his knees and gasping for air himself. He had never been one for cricket or rugby, and the exertion of running at a madcap pace through the Highland forest was not exactly something he'd planned on this evening. Still, he was nothing if not determined, so he took a deep breath and grated out, "Helen is never going to know."

"We lost a _dragon_, James," John said. He was already laughing again. "I think she might notice."

James straightened, but did not trust himself to reply.

* * *

The evening, which had begun normally enough, for them, had turned strange after dinner when Gregory received a telegraph and departed with some haste for the train station. Helen explained that it was probably the dragon.

"The what?" John said, while James choked on a very fine brandy, spilling a good portion of it on his tie.

"The dragon," Helen replied. "It's in Inverness. It's ill, though, and father has yet to determine why."

Helen turned to pass James the bottle, and missed the speculative look that passed between the two gentlemen as James did his best to clean up the spirits with his handkerchief.

"Inverness, you say?" James said, because they both knew if John said it, Helen wouldn't be fooled for an instant.

"Well we can't exactly keep it in Edinburgh," Helen reminded him. "People would be alarmed."

Gregory had spent most of his time lately setting up remote safe-havens for his beloved creatures. James knew that there were several such sanctuaries in Pitlochry, but the one in Inverness was news to him.

"Have you seen it, then?" John asked.

"No, just father's diagrams," Helen said. She sounded more than a little put out. "Father seems to think I'm too reckless to be involved until the beast has been stabilized."

Neither James nor John were brave enough to form a direct reply to that.

* * *

"Why ever did you open the cage, anyway?" John said as they trunched up the hill, hoping the rise would provide them with a better view of their surroundings and possibly a glimpse of their quarry.

"I did nothing of the sort!" James said. "I was merely standing by the door when it charged me, for reasons unknown."

"Perhaps it was hungry," John suggested. "Though it did have ample opportunity to eat you and here you are unscathed."

"You don't have to sound so disappointed," James said. "And it did knock me over."

"I merely wish to reason out its motives," John said. "If you would stop fretting and think for a moment, perhaps you could help."

James's reply died in his throat. It was true, after all. A simple dragon ought not to outwit a teleporter and one of the smartest men in the world. He rummaged in his pocket for his handkerchief, but discovered it missing, so he was forced to settle for wiping his face with his tie.

* * *

The most difficult part, John decided, was going to be getting out of the Magnus household without alerting Helen to their intent. He decided to leave that to James.

"What do you think is wrong with it?" James asked, the picture of innocence.

"I cannot say," Helen said, "not having seen the dragon myself. However, I would guess that there is some part of its native habitat that we are failing to replicate in captivity."

"That follows logic,"

"Indeed," Helen said. "Except that the dragon was found on the Hebrides, so it's very nearly in its native habitat."

"Have you examined its diet?" John asked, deciding that it was safe for him to speak as long as he didn't actually look at either of them while he did it.

"Yes," Helen said. "It is difficult because although the dragon is small, somewhat smaller than a horse at least, very few people witnessed it in the wild before it began hanging about their cotholds at night."

"So you fear that anything the locals might have seen is actually not natural," James said.

"That is my thought, yes," Helen replied.

Throughout the conversation, James had been picking at his brandy-soaked tie. At last, he held it up in front of his face. "I rather liked this one," he said mournfully.

"If you get it into soda within an hour, it should be fine," Helen said. "Though I'm afraid you'd have to do that elsewhere. The new housekeeper is already at her wits' end on account of you two being here at all in my father's absence.

John did his very best to look as unexcited as possible.

"In that case, dear lady, I shall bid you good night," James said expansively. "John?"

At that exact moment, with both of them looking at him expectantly, John realized the weak point in the plan.

"I suppose I'd best make a show of leaving," he said. "For the sake of your housekeeper."

"That might be the best idea," Helen replied. "I shall see you later, then."

Only once they stood on the street in front of the house did John actually believe they'd gotten away with it.

"I think I've bought us about an hour, old boy," he said. "Do you think that will be enough time?"

"Please," James said. "Do you really think there are many places in Inverness where you could hide a dragon?"

* * *

"Very well," James said, launching into his full on investigative mode. "The dragon was, by Helen's admission, ill. When we arrived, it appeared to be sleeping, however as soon as we drew close, it came to."

"And tried to eat you for dinner," John said.

"I'm not sure about that," James said. "The beast used neither tooth nor claw upon me, though it had opportunity to do both. You would think, had it wanted a sample, it would have taken one."

"Perhaps it didn't like the way you smelled," John suggested.

James froze in his tracks. His hand half-way to his handkerchief-less pocket.

"Well?" John asked, because even in the dark he could guess at the expression on James's face.

"The brandy," James said. John waited. He knew he'd get an explanation eventually. "Ever since Parliament implemented the whiskey tax, it has been estimated that there are some few hundred illegal distilleries in the Scottish countryside, most of them small enough to be run out of a single household. Literally, of course, since in the production of moonshine, the still is simply placed outside the back door over night.

"The dragon was only noticed when it started hanging about the cotholds. If one of them played host to a distillery, then the dragon would have had access to whatever spirits were being brewed."

"You mean Helen's dragon has a taste for whiskey?" John said.

"Yes," James said. "It smelled the brandy I spilled and mopped up with my handkerchief, and when it tackled me, it must have made off with it, because it's gone. Apparently, however, the dragon does not fancy brandy, and that's why it made a break for the trees."

"Do you think there's another private still around here, then?" John asked.

"I do hope so," James said, "As that would provide our most likely means of catching it."

John held out his hand and, with a smile, James took it.

* * *

It was very dark in Inverness, but that did not stall James for long. John had been impressed by the speed of his friend's mind from the time they had met as schoolboys, but ever since they had taken the source blood, John had watched James's intellect blossom even further. Details seemed to line up to present themselves for his consideration, and it was, as James had suspected, as easy matter to reason out the location of the dragon.

When they reached the farm, it was dark as well. Whatever emergency had prompted the cotholder to send for Gregory, it seemed to have, for the moment, subsided. A quick look into the enclosure revealed the dragon to be sleeping, and John surmised that its slumber was the reason for the general calm.

"Right then," James said, effortlessly picking the lock on the outer enclosure door. "Shall we?"

"Do you think it can really breathe fire?" John asked, hesitating. Scorch marks would be very difficult to explain to Helen, after all.

"They are keeping it a stone shed," James said speculatively. He looked through the door. "Ah, but there's straw down. They wouldn't have done that if it could be lit on fire."

"If you say so," John said, and followed his friend inside.

* * *

In the end, James solution had all the elegance of a beached whale. They simply found a still and waited for the dragon to appear. John hadn't brought his watch, but he knew that his hour was long up, and he was not looking forward to explaining this to Helen when they got back to London. James, however, was caught up in the hunt and would not be dissuaded. At last, there was a crash from just over the fence line, and the dragon arrived.

"Now what?" John whispered as it ambled towards them.

"When it gets close, you grab it, and me, and take us all back to the enclosure."

"Are you mad?"

"It will be fine, John," James said. "I think it likes me."

John could think of any number of things to say to _that_, but the dragon moved too quickly for him to get any of them out. He grabbed James's hand again, and all but dragged him towards the beast, which, he admitted, did look oddly happy to see them. A short burst of brimstone later, they were all back in the enclosure, and then John released the dragon and teleported out of the cage.

"It looks healthier," James remarked, wiping his face with his tie again.

The dragon was happily setting into the appropriated still, which it had apparently be touching when John grabbed it.

"Shall we go then?" John asked. "Or would you prefer to go chase a fairy or two to round out the evening?"

At the sound of the word fairy, the dragon lunged towards them. From its mouth and nostrils came a stream of bright fire, which smelled unmistakably of alcohol. John pushed James back out of the way, and the two men fell into the straw mow, laughing like the schoolboys they had once been.

* * *

"Did you see James's tie safely home?" Helen asked later on when John finally appeared in her room.

"Yes," John said. He could not resist adding, "Though it was something of an uphill battle."

Her smile was exactly the kind of dangerous he liked. "Did you fix my dragon as well?"

John blinked and, since he could think of nothing to say, chose to say nothing at all.

* * *

**fin**

**AN**: The Scots take their whiskey quite seriously, Inverness was sort of the end of the world in the 1880's and I can't believe I wrote a story about an alcoholic dragon. Also, the word "teleport" was not invented until the 1930s, but I think James could have come up with it on his own, so I used it.

Gravity_Not_Included, February 16, 2011**  
**


End file.
